Never Again
by Europe28
Summary: The end of World War 1 and the Nations are positioned to sign the Treaty of Versailles, but Arthur is hesitant about signing especially after he meets the Nations he's damming, but it's all water under the bridge now. Isn't it? Fruk, GerIta, UsCan and possibly other pairings.
1. Chapter 1

Arthur sighed, glancing over at the calendar on the hotel desk, _The 28__th__ of June 1919. _It was hard to believe that almost a year had gone past since the end of The Great War.

Around this time last year Arthur had been in the trenches with his allies fighting the long and bloody war against Germany. His country had lost over a quarter of a million men in that war, and the worst part was he was the main ally who'd lost the least.

Even so, Arthur had mixed feelings about today.

On one hand it was a closure on the whole gruesome event, it would never happen again; but on the other, perhaps they were being too harsh on Germany...

He knew that Francis was pushing with his leader, Clemenceau, for the harshest punishments they could think of.

France had lost two million in the war, but then again so had Germany...

Arthur mentally slapped himself. Germany had been the attacker, he reminded himself, Germany had tried to invade France and had continued to fight, refusing to back down after their first invasion attempt had failed.

He adjusted his tie and pulled at the uncomfortable material of the suit.

The discussions were over, the terms had been decided, Germany had no say in what he and his brother were about to sign.

Alfred had abstained and gone back to America, and Arthur couldn't help but feel that Alfred had done the right thing. Francis had dismissed Alfred's lenient attitude towards the Germans because America had lost so few men in comparison to the rest of them.

But Arthur was caught between them, he agreed with Francis that Germany couldn't go unpunished, but he did see the truth in what Alfred had argued across the meeting tables.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur pushed open his hotel room's door and stepped out into the hall. A carriage was waiting outside to take him and David Lloyd George, the British Prime Minister, to the Versailles Palace, where Francis no doubt would already be waiting.

"Ready for this?" Lloyd George met him on the way down the stairs and Arthur couldn't help but note that his Prime Minister looked just as conflicted about this treaty as Arthur himself did.

The old Prime Minister was sweating under his collar and had dark rings under his eyes that suggested he hadn't slept well the previous night.

The English Nation nodded his head stiffly, exchanging a morning nod with the various diplomats they passed in the entrance hall, discussing various things in various languages.

"Wilson and I have been discussing a League of Nations," The Prime Minister mumbled, keeping his voice low so the other diplomats couldn't hear him, "To further ensure that nothing like this terrible war happens again, and with America's help I think we can keep the world at peace."

Arthur absent-mindedly let his mind trail back to the days when Alfred had just been a child under Arthur's care.

During his geography lesson, Alfred had coloured in areas of the map in a bright red pen that he'd assured Arthur that he'd one day fight and smash under the might of America. Alfred had never been a peace loving Nation, though currently he appeared very uninterested in the rest of the world, and Arthur couldn't help but feel sceptical as to how far Alfred and his country were willing to commit to a League of Nations.

Arthur held up a hand to cover his face as he and Lloyd George stepped out of the hotel to have more than two dozen cameras flash at them.

Putting his hand on the older man's arm, Arthur helped his Prime Minister to the waiting carriage, allowing him to climb in first before pulling his own body through the door and shutting it behind them.

Arthur glanced out of the window while Lloyd George checked over his notes.

It was a very beautiful city for such a damned treaty.

There were other carriages heading in the same direction as them - Arthur guessed that they held the other Nations that had been invited to sign and their leaders.

Their allies would of course be there. Russia, Austria and Hungary had not been invited for obvious reasons.

Arthur had caught a little of the gossip between the Eastern European Nations, they seemed to be under the impression that Russia had finally flipped his lid.

The Communism that had been introduced in Russia was a strange form of the ideas that Arthur had listened to Karl Marx lecture.

Lenin seemed to have most of it under control now but Arthur had heard that he was ill and that some guy called Stalin was lurking around waiting for a chance to seize power for himself.

Lloyd George tapped him and indicated the Palace that was now coming into view. It was grand building, and the press had been held back to let the carriages in so it was unlikely they'd have a repeat of leaving the hotel.

The carriage pulled up beside the front steps.

Even before he they'd pulled up, Arthur had spotted Francis waiting for him.

Despite the oncoming event Arthur couldn't help but smile - never in all of their history had he ever believed that he and France would be bonded together like this.

They'd stood side-by-side from 1914 to 1918, and they were going to do it again. France and England working together – who would have imagined it?

"Good, you're here." Francis almost pounced on him, and began dragging him into the Palace where the rooms were already beginning to look quite crowded.

Once Arthur was sure his Prime Minister knew where Clemenceau was, he allowed Francis' hand to fold around his and drag him in the direction of the Allied Nation's room.

It wasn't one of the grandest rooms, but it was still wonderfully furnished with a rich appeal.

The two Italy brothers were in one corner of the room. Feliciano was curled on one of the chairs looking worried and uncomfortable, while his older brother perched on the armrest, surveying the room with a suspicious eye.

Belgium looked small and awkward without The Netherlands by her side, and the other Nations weren't used to seeing her at occasions like this without him.

China and their mysterious and quiet ally Japan were in another corner, uncertain about their Western style surroundings. Not once during the war had Arthur heard Japan speak, he had wondered if the Japanese Nation perhaps didn't speak English so he'd tried miserably to learn some Japanese, but the only reaction he'd gained was a raised eyebrow.

Heracles had fallen asleep on one of the sofas and was dozing softly.

The room was mostly silent apart from the occasional whine from Feliks, the Polish Nation, asking how long they were going to be expected to wait.

Arthur took a seat on a sofa next to France, releasing the Frenchman's hand so he could skim just once more through the final sanctions they were going to sign against Germany.

Now he thought about it, where were the two German Nations, their signature would be required even if it wasn't voluntary.

Francis seemed to sense what he was thinking because he discreetly and subtly pointed towards a door that divided them from the next room.

"Do you want to see them?" Francis asked, sounding like he was trying to keep the dislike out of his voice.

"Is that allowed?" Arthur wasn't sure if going to see the two Nations they were going to destroy before signing the treaty was such a good idea.

"We should," Francis sighed, looking irritated, "Just to make sure they know what they're signing before we make them write their names."

The two of them rose gracefully and in unison, drawing glances from the other Nations as they made their way across the room towards the door.

Arthur opened it just enough for himself and Francis to get through without the Germans needing to be in sight of the others.

"Are you sure they can't get hold of him?" Germany was hissing in a hushed tone to his brother, just as the Prussian Nation cuffed him around the head,

"You show your Kaiser respect!" The white haired Nation scolded,

"But he's not our Kaiser anymore; he's fled and left us in this mess he caused!"

Arthur cleared his throat.

The German Nations jumped, their heads snapping round to face Arthur and Francis.

The air was thick and cold. Nobody made motion to speak or move.

After a minute of silence, Arthur moved to sit down on the sofa.

The room was the same size as the one the Allied Nations had, but with only two Nations in here the room seemed a lot bigger.

A German version of the treaty lay unopened on the coffee table. Arthur reached for it and motioned for the two Germans to sit down opposite him.

With a growl, the younger of the two brothers sat himself down on the opposite sofa, but Francis and Prussia were still on their feet, glaring at each other with pure hatred.

Deciding it would be more productive to ignore them, Arthur glanced at the German writing on the first page.

"Ge...bie...t…" Arthur sounded aloud, pretty sure that he was pronouncing it wrong. He spoke Western Germanic, but had never had the time to learn the more modern German used today.

A hand reached out and took the document from him. Germany settled himself on the sofa and began to read over the terms that were being enforced on them.

Arthur didn't need to look over his shoulder to know that Francis and Prussia were still glaring at each other, so he focused on the German in front of him instead.

He was surprised to see how young Germany looked. He knew Germany was a new country but the Nation himself had surely been around before that.

The young man in front of him couldn't have been older than eighteen, and although he clearly had a rash view and aggression like most new countries, Arthur could see that there was a strong militaristic and political brain that was essential in an efficient country.

Most of the war negotiations had been handled by Prussia, so while Arthur had seen Germany before, he'd never really been able to catch anything of what he was like.

If they hadn't just been at war Arthur probably would have respected him as a promising Nation.

He saw the German frown as he turned the pages. Like Arthur, he seemed to be ignoring Francis and his brother's glaring match.

"We can't negotiate this?" He asked, placing the document back on the table, his piercing blue gaze fixed on Arthur.

"Of course not!" Francis snapped before Arthur could open his mouth, "You murdering bastards ruined the Eastern border of my country and you're going to pay for it!"

Germany looked like he was about to say something but his brother interrupted.

"You'll be sorry for this, just you wait!" Prussia yelled back, his face tensing into a look of fury, "We'll get our own back, this isn't over!"

Francis smirked, motioning to Arthur that they were leaving, "I think you'll find it is."

Arthur exchanged an apologetic look with Germany, who nodded coldly back, before following Francis back through the main door into the Allied Nation's room.

Perhaps if Germany had been more like Prussia then the sense of guilt and conflicted emotion would have faded into anger, but meeting Germany had made Arthur feel all the more wrong and conceited.

But Francis had made a valid point. The war had been mostly on the border between France and Germany, and a lot of France's towns and villages had been destroyed in the fighting. It seemed unfair that the French Government should pay for repairs from a war they didn't start.

Arthur ran a hand through his messy hair - he hadn't had time to comb it this morning, not like it usually made much of a difference anyway.

"We're ready for you." a voice called from the door that called the Nations forward to their duty.

They were to sign the treaty, and then Germany and Prussia would sign at the bottom.

Arthur moved with the others in a crowd to the main room where the press, various leaders and just ordinary people were gathered to watch and film this event.

Arthur stood by Francis' side while the other Nations walked forwards one at a time to sign their names in front of the crowded hall.

"We'll sign it together." Francis whispered, nudging Arthur's hand with his fingers carefully. Both Nations knew full well that the physical contact could be interpreted as something that it wasn't, which was why the movement was so concealed.

"I don't think I can sign it…" Arthur heard himself murmur in a low voice filled with panic.

This time Francis darted out his fingers a little further to Arthur's arm, which he touched gently. "Just take a deep breath." his blue eyes met the Englishman's green ones for a moment and then they were both walking down the long hall towards the treaty, where a pen was waiting.

Francis signed first, and for the first time Arthur saw that the Frenchman's hand was shaking where it hesitated above the signature line.

The French Nation closed his eyes and let out a long breath, then signed his name with all the others.

_Francis Bonnefoy._

Now it was Arthur's turn.

The Englishman took the pen and steadied his hand on the desk, forcing himself to write his name one letter at a time.

_A-r-t-h-u-r K-i-r-k-l-a-n-d._

It was done, he'd signed it.

He walked back down the hall with Francis feeling worse than ever.

Just as he and Francis joined the others, another door at the opposite end of the hall opened. The crowd began to boo and jeer as Germany and Prussia walked into the room with their heads held high.

They stood before the treaty while the judge reminded them of what they were about to agree to.

"_You are hereby charged reparations totalling 132 Billion Marks, you agree to Rhineland occupation, a limit of 100,000 troops and no conscription, your import and export of weapons is banned, you are forbidden from unifying with Austria and 10% of your territory will be divided by the winning allies. Do you agree?"_

Arthur didn't hear their reply, he didn't even know if they gave one, but both Nations one after the other signed the treaty.

_**Author's Note: Should I make this into a full story or just leave it at the one chapter?**_


	2. Chapter 2

There was a lot of drinking at the reception, and it wasn't just the countries. World leaders were throwing back drink after drink as they chatted and nervously checked their watches for an appropriate time where they could sneak off back to their hotel rooms.

Understandably, Germany and Prussia were nowhere to be seen.

Francis was chatting politely with his and what looked like Poland's leaders while Arthur slipped off to explore the various conversations that were going on around the room now everybody had something to drink.

Unusually he himself wasn't drinking.

Although it was peculiar for someone who got drunk a lot, Arthur didn't like to drink when he was actually anxious about something. Who wanted to be drunk while they were depressed?

"Stop whining, Feliciano!"

Arthur stopped to observe the Italian brothers standing by the bar.

Although both of them looked miserable, it was the younger Italian that had caught Arthur's eye. He didn't think he'd ever seen Italy looking depressed before. Upset, yes; scared, yes; but this was different.

He remembered that Italy had originally been in an alliance with Germany at the beginning of the war and had only changed to their side after the war had started - perhaps he had more sympathy for the Germans than the others?

Romano, however, just looked grumpy and bored as he poured himself what looked like another in a long chain of glasses of red wine. Arthur heard him mutter something about the wine in his country being much nicer before the older brother grabbed his younger brother's arm and began walking in the direction of the door.

After that, slowly, but with great determination, others began to leave, until the room was empty of everybody except the nations of France and England.

The two stood at opposite ends of the hall, looking around the now empty room.

"Do you think we did the right thing?" Arthur felt his quiet voice vibrate and expel through the room so it landed clearly on Francis' ears.

Francis folded his arms and closed his eyes then nodded with confidence, "Oui." his voice was just as quiet but like Arthur's own it echoed around the hall.

There was a closure to the way he said it that told Arthur that it didn't need to be discussed again.

The two left the hall together. When they arrived outside, they found that all but one of the coaches had been taken.

"Where are you staying?" Francis asked, motioning at Arthur towards the carriage.

Arthur named his hotel and Francis nodded.

"That's not too far from mine; we'll take the carriage together."

The two of them squeezed into the carriage, which now appeared to be much smaller than it had looked previously. This was not the same sort of carriage that Arthur had arrived in with his Prime Minister.

Francis gave the driver instructions before closing the door and settling himself opposite Arthur so that their knees were just touching.

"Get some sleep when you get back," Francis gave Arthur a tired smile, "You look exhausted."

When the carriage stopped outside the hotel, Arthur wasn't even shocked when the Frenchman leaned gently forward and pecked a short kiss on his mouth.

"Goodnight." Francis whispered,

"Goodnight." Arthur replied, climbing out of the carriage without a look back.

He heard the driver click his tongue and the gallop of horse hooves, and when he finally did look back when he was at the door of the hotel; it was to see the carriage already in the distance.

The hotel was quiet, unlike the busy building he'd left this morning.

With a wide yawn he collected his key from the man at the desk, the only human downstairs it seemed, and began heading up the stairs to his room where he intended to sleep until someone pulled him out of bed.

The moment he reached his room Arthur curled up on his bed, not bothering to change into his pyjamas, and within a moment he was sound asleep.

_Arthur felt his body stirring in his sleep to the sound of bombs ricocheting off the surrounding land._

_He'd had nightmares like this for the last few years but never quite as vivid as this one. Was this his subconscious trying to assure him that he'd definitely done the right thing?_

_Feeling his body moving of its own accord, Arthur watched as his dream self hid behind a dismantled building._

_As he hid, Arthur had time to take in his surroundings more. He was in what looked like one of France's Northern coastal villages, but the place had been bombed to high hell._

_What was he doing here? The war hadn't spread this far into France, was this just a nightmare because he'd feared throughout the whole war that it would end up on his doorstep?_

"_Arthur, hurry up!"_

_He recognised Alfred's voice and turned his head towards it. The American was hiding behind another building adjacent to Arthur's own, looking blood-stained and ill, but he was still on his feet, panting heavily._

_Then they were both running together firing at the oncoming soldiers. Arthur could feel the bullets behind whisk past them from behind, assuring them that their own soldiers were coming._

_They were fighting Germans. Arthur could hear them swearing and cursing as he got closer, but they weren't dressed in a uniform he recognised._

_He'd spent four years getting to know the look of a German uniform. The nasty grey colour and the helmet with spike on the top - he'd soon learnt was actually quite a useful feature for cutting themselves out of barbed wire if they got caught._

_But these uniforms were smart, and the Germans were marching in a line with the skill that only Prussia had once commanded._

_More bullets rained down on them._

_Arthur could see that Alfred was close to the point of collapse as his body racked and heaved with the effort to keep firing._

"_Omaha beach." Arthur kept hearing that word as soldiers ran past them and from Alfred's own delirious lips._

_Omaha beach?_

_Arthur had once been there with Francis and his friends, when the Frenchman and the Prussian had been friends, to show off to them that he could swim in the English Channel without turning blue._

_It had been a fun day, just after they'd defeated France in the Napoleonic War._

_Arthur could remember how great it had been having France back to his normal self, flirting with both Arthur and every pretty woman he saw on the beach. They'd all slapped him, so Francis had claimed that obviously only English women swim in the channel, because they're the only ones that couldn't understand his charm._

_It made Arthur's chest hurt to think that a place with such fond memories might now be streaked with blood and bodies._

_Then a hand grasped his shoulder._

_Arthur looked up to see Francis. He too was covered in blood but he looked in a better way than Alfred - in fact, in the smoke and dirt of the battle field Arthur may have described Francis as glowing._

"_Leave the rest to me, you get Alfred back to the medical bay." Francis smiled, turning his head towards the Germans, every bullet missing him by miles._

_Arthur felt unable to take his eyes from the Frenchman. He didn't understand what was going on, but he was glad to see that despite the fact they were standing deep into French soil that Francis seemed so strong._

_Then, with slight consciousness and slight unconsciousness, Arthur wrapped his arms around Francis' neck and pulled him into a kiss._

It was that moment that Arthur woke up, bringing a trembling hand to his mouth and touching his lips in shock.

He'd kissed France, and not just in the dream, they'd kissed in the carriage.

How could he have let that slip? And how could he have dreamed doing it again?

Then he remembered the treaty and fell back onto his pillows. That's right, he remembered now, he'd been so out of it yesterday that he hadn't been thinking straight, besides, in his own weird way Francis had probably just been trying to cheer him up.

He rolled over and checked the grand clock beside the door. It was coming up to midday, the others had probably already started packing and were almost ready to go back home to England.

Arthur missed his home and would be glad to see it again, and to leave this horrid war far behind him at last.

Rolling out of bed he went to have a shower before changing into a clean set of clothes and out of the stuffy suit that seemed slightly more comfortable now he'd spent a night in it.

Just as he was climbing out of the shower, someone knocked at his door to tell him to be ready to go in half-an-hour.

Arthur sighed and began packing up his belongings, while getting dressed at the same time in a plain shirt and dark faded trousers. They weren't his smartest clothes, but he didn't care - he was tired and he just wanted to go home and sleep in his own bed, and walk in his own garden.

He loved France, though he would never let the French Nation catch him admitting to that. Sometimes all a Nation really wanted was his own country.

Checking his room once more in case he'd missed anything, Arthur straightened up and took his suitcase by the handle, pulling open his door with difficulty under the weight of the suitcase, and kicking it closed behind him.

He left his suitcase outside of his room for a bellhop to come and collect - there was no way he was going to lug that great big thing down the stairs.

With his weight abandoned, Arthur sprang down the banister with all the youth of a young man, which technically speaking he still was.

Lloyd George and the other officials were already downstairs waiting for their suitcases and carriages to arrive which would carry them to the ferry port.

"Good morning." Arthur greeted his Prime Minister, "Sorry I'm a bit late."

Lloyd George smiled, "Don't worry, I think we all overslept but nobody wants to admit it."

Indeed as Arthur observed the room he did notice that everybody was yawning or still looked a little dopey or snappy.

The bellhops began to arrive with their suitcases and load them onto the carriages which had just arrived.

Arthur couldn't help wondering if one day those new motorcar things that countries were starting to develop would replace horses and carriages. They'd certainly be a lot easier to care for, and they probably wouldn't bite either.

Arthur climbed into the carriage with Lloyd George and they discussed the speech that the Prime Minister was going to give when they got back to England. No doubt there would be hundreds of reporters and people waiting for them on the docks.

Glancing up at the sky, Arthur felt his stomach already beginning to turn. For an ex-pirate he certainly seemed to get sea sick a lot.

When he'd been on the sea all the time he'd hardly noticed the moving of the boat and the waves, he'd just adjusted his body so that it moved with them. But it had been so long since then and now he was just as queasy as any normal landlubber.

He laughed quietly to himself. He could remember the one time he'd referred to a member of the royal family as a landlubber - they'd tried to execute him and had begun debates as to whether a pirate should get away with his crimes just because he was their Nation.

Of course it didn't matter, they couldn't kill him anyway, but it had been an interesting debate to watch.

One woman had suggested they hang him with the other pirates, another had suggested imprisonment and rehabilitation (which would honestly probably have been the worst). The funniest had been the idea that they might hang, draw, and quarter him for treason.

Of course all that was water under the bridge now and forgotten by most of the people of England. But it was still always added in a footnote whenever a new Prime Minister got in and read his file that under no circumstances were they allowed to let Arthur return to his inexcusable pirate deeds.

Now that a day had passed since the treaty had been signed, Arthur was beginning to relax again. It was water under the bridge, just like the pirate thing.

Something like the long war they'd experienced this decade would never happen again.

_**Author's Note: I'll make this into a ch**__**apter story~ But I'm in Spain for two weeks so while I'll still be working on the story I'm sorry I won't update until the 18**__**th**__** at the earliest.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: In this fic Germany = HRE (any of you who have read my other stuff will know that's usually an angle I go from), but this time I'm just going to make it obvious to the reader~  
Thanks for the wait, I'm back from Spain, it was seriously hot.  
I have a new BETA checking over my chapters now, so special thanks to Hetaliaddiction for this chapter~**__  
_

Ludwig felt his increasingly thin body shiver as he wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to keep himself warm.

He and his brother had managed to get a place against a wall in a warm room, their position didn't quite catch all the fire's warmth, but they had a place to rest their backs against. There were about a dozen other people with them, some with places closer to the fire itself.

It was very crowded and the place smelt of sickness, but at least there was the warmth of the burning flames, and as winter approached the desire for such heat became more desperate.

Never before in his life could Ludwig remember the situation of his people being so bad. They were poor, large amounts of their land had been destroyed or given away and two million of their men had died pointlessly in a war they'd started.

There was a shuffle beside him as Gilbert draped his own coat over Ludwig's shoulders.

Ludwig shook his head and tried to hand the coat back, but his brother only grinned and told him not to worry about it, then he recounted story of an old forgotten war he'd fought in where apparently he'd experienced much worse.

Ludwig had long since given up trying to work out fact from invention in his brother's exciting tales so just sat back to listen with his brothers coat huddled around him.

He listened with the twelve other people in the room, and like the others jumped, exclaimed and cheered in all the right places.

Although they were cold, tired and poor, Ludwig couldn't help but feel thankful for all the time he and his brother were spending together now.

For as far back as he could remember, Gilbert had usually been out with his friends or fighting a war somewhere, and whenever Gilbert had been around he was usually drunk. But now there were no distractions and they couldn't afford alcohol, this was both a curse and a blessing. While it was nice to have a sober and exciting brother around, he did miss the wondrous taste of beer as it washed down your throat. He'd trade almost anything for a beer right now.

Gilbert had finished his story and another conversation had sprung up from one of the men.

"This is all England and France's fault, they force us to pay reparations they know we can't afford and sit back and watch us starve!" The man who had spoken motioned towards one of the women in the room with a skinny, tiny toddler sleeping on her knee.

A call of anger and agreement went up around the warm room, and Ludwig wasn't surprised to see his brother amongst them.

"You know, I used to be friends with those bastards! France and I went way back, and now he has done this to me!" Gilbert hissed.

Ludwig didn't think now was the time to mention that they had tried to invade France's country - everybody in the room seemed too hyped up with anger to listen or suggest anything sensible.

The angry retorts went from the conditions of the treaty, to insulting the countries, then insulting the Nations personally.

"I heard that English one is mad anyway" one person commented, "and that he sees things like faeries and dragons," they did a cruel impersonation, "is that really the sort of Nation that should be lecturing us on our behaviour!?"

Ludwig thought back to that one short meeting he'd had with England. He couldn't remember any lecturing, if anything England had been one of the few Nations at that meeting that had directed any sympathy at them at all.

He knew Gilbert thought sympathy was a major insult, the same as calling someone weak or inferior, but Ludwig couldn't help but be touched by that one suggestion of kindness.

He'd bumped into his old ally Italy in the hotel hallway, but the Italian Nation had started and scuttled off before Ludwig even had the chance to ask him how he was.

Ludwig had been hurt by that, even though Italy had betrayed them and joined the Cordial even after their Triple Alliance agreement. He'd liked Italy. There was just something about the bubbly, overly emotional, Italian Nation that he'd grown to appreciate.

Although he'd been involved in the war too, it had mostly been his brother's doing more than his own. The Kaiser of Old Germany continuing the proud Prussian tradition of invading and absorbing neighbouring countries for glory.

Distancing himself from the conversation, Ludwig took advantage of one of the places closer to the fire that had opened up when the loud Nation-bashing conversation had started.

He found himself sitting next to the woman with the toddler. She was humming softly to the child, as it began to stir uncomfortably every time one of the men raised their voice.

The woman couldn't move any further away from them without losing the fire's warmth.

Despite her humming and hands over her child's ears, the toddler soon woke up and began to whimper softly - it was too weak to cry.

To Ludwig's discomfort, the woman herself began to cry too, hugging her child closer to her chest.

"Here," he reached out towards the mother, gently and slowly lifting her toddler away from her. He was sure if she herself had not been so weak and hungry she would have put up a fight, but as it was she just looked at him with wide frightened eyes.

Ludwig slipped the toddler under the coat that Gilbert had given him and let the child snuggle against it. After a while he felt regular breathing rising and falling against his chest.

Now the woman smiled, wiping her eyes, "Thank you" she whispered, her eyes gratefully watching the form of her child under Ludwig's coat sleeping peacefully.

"Where were you before all this?" Ludwig asked her, trying to make easy conversation over the argument at the other side of the fire.

The woman's face lit up for a moment, as if her soul were temporarily warmed by the memory. "I lived in a house with my husband, a new born baby on the way. He was a banker, and good at his job, his manager said he was going places..."

Her face fell again as she looked into the flickering flames of the fire, the sparks dancing in her blue eyes. "Then the war came, and he left and didn't come back," she rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand though no tears had fallen. "What about you?" She sniffed, "You're a young man, did you fight?"

Ludwig nodded, "I did," he closed his eyes in an attempt to suppress the memory of his people dying and screaming around him as they were ripped apart by British bullets. "Before that, my brother and I were well off; we lived in a large house near the Kaiser's palace..."

"With your parents?" The woman asked with a sorry smile.

Ludwig didn't answer and let her think what she wanted. He'd often found that people preferred to make up things about their Nations rather than knowing the truth.

Of course the people knew they had Nations, but often Nations looked so common in appearance to their people that nobody could recognise them on looks alone.

Sometimes it annoyed him, as it meant if he forgot his ID at meetings then they wouldn't let him in until his leader or somebody who knew him came out and confirmed who he was.

But at other times, like now, it was nice not to be recognised.

"I'm Trudi," the woman smiled, "and my son's name is Hans,"

"I'm Ludwig" the German Nation introduced himself, "my brother there, his name is Gilbert."

The woman glanced up at Gilbert who was now doing an impression of England's swimming, by the looks of things.

"He's a little..." She hesitated, "...Odd looking."

Ludwig knew by her awkward expression that she didn't mean anything nasty by it.

Gilbert was one of the few Nations who looked very different from his people - in fact, he looked different to people in general, with his white hair and blazing red eyes, he did stand out.

"He was born like that." Ludwig answered simply, again leaving Trudi to fill in the gaps with whichever words she wanted.

She was a nice woman, and Ludwig was sorry that he couldn't do more for her, but he had as little as she did.

After the treaty had been signed, Ludwig and his brother had been thrown out of their house and the new leaders, who blamed the Nations partly for the war, had refused them financial help.

The new leaders had made it clear that they intended to rule without their Nations.

Gilbert was sure that this stance wouldn't last long and that sooner or later they'd come crawling back, but how soon was soon? They'd already been out here for over a month.

"Tell me about your childhood." Trudi asked suddenly, then she blushed, "S-Sorry, that must sound really weird coming from someone you don't know, I was just curious…"

"It's okay," Ludwig had been a little thrown by the question, but he knew as long as he was vague it would be alright and nobody could be more vague about their childhood than him.

"I had an accident when I was a young child and lost most of my memories" Ludwig admitted, "but my brother took care of me. I sometimes get flashes but it's nothing comprehensible so I just ignore most of it..."

"You mustn't do that!" Ludwig was surprised by the force that Trudi objected with. She turned her head away, "I had an accident when I was young too and I lost some of my memories, but little-by-little I was able to recover them and I'm glad I did."

"What were the memories of?" Ludwig asked curiously. Ludwig was pretty sure he hadn't missed anything important; otherwise his brother would have told him.

"They were just silly things," Trudi smiled, "Days on the beach with my family, my first crush, our holiday to Norden, they're just the sort of things it's nice to remember now."

Ludwig nodded, but even though he agreed he still found he had no curiosity about his own childhood.

Gilbert and his angry rabble seemed to finally be settling down, so Ludwig handed Hans back to his mother along with his brother's coat. It was all he could do to better the mother and son, he was sure that Gilbert would understand.

His brother didn't comment on the transferral of the coat when Ludwig returned to him, and Ludwig didn't mention it.

They hadn't paid enough for the privilege to sleep right next to the fire, so they had to make do with the spaces on the edges of the room that they hoped would still hold some of the fire's heat.

Still, it was better than sleeping in the street in some shop doorway. It would always be colder outside than it was in here.

"Bruder?" Ludwig heard himself asking, "How much longer do we have to live like this?"

Gilbert pulled that uncomfortable face he'd always had when he was trying to look comforting, "Not long, we'll be back in a house soon. They need us; they can't successfully run the country without us."

Ludwig nodded, knowing this answer meant that his brother wasn't sure.

Feeling rather like a child again, Ludwig let his brother fuss over him, ensuring that his coat had been fastened all the way up. Ludwig felt guilty for giving Gilbert's coat away - now his brother had nothing to keep him warm tonight.

"Don't worry about it." Gilbert grinned, reading Ludwig's thoughts as easily as if he'd spoken them, "We'll just have to sleep a little closer tonight, that's all."

The two brothers curled up together, trying to ignore the cold draft that stung their joints - all they wanted was a good night's sleep.

There had been a time when Gilbert would always say a prayer before going to sleep, but it seemed those days were gone.

They'd been abandoned by the world, their leaders, and any divinity out there; all they had now were each other.

Remembering the story Trudi had told him, Ludwig wondered if he should humour himself and dive into those missing years of his life whilst in his sleepless state.

He closed his eyes and thought back over the last hundred or so years of his memories, right until he reached the locked door that hid those others that had been sealed away. There was nothing.

The door blocked his mind however much he tried to get around it, and before he'd discovered if it was possible to make any progress, he slipped into unconsciousness.

"_Bruder! Bruder!" The ten-year-old Ludwig ran through the halls of the huge house they lived in, glancing through the various doors looking for his brother._

_He'd seen his brother coming home from the view through his bedroom window. He had some of his friends with him but that didn't matter; he was sober and he was home._

"_Hey, mein bruder!"_

_Ludwig found his brother and two of his brother's friends in the lounge talking and comparing battle stories._

"_There's no way that Turkey was that scary, Toni!" The blonde one complained, throwing an irritable look at the darker haired man who had been telling a story when Ludwig had entered._

"_He was!"_

"_Ludwig these are my friends Francis and Antonio, they're the Nations of France and Spain. Nations, like us." Gilbert lifted his brother onto his knee._

_Ludwig fixed them with a disapproving look that made the older Nations laugh._

"_That face reminds me of Angleterre when he was a cute child." Francis grinned, then he sighed, "Why did he have to grow up...?"_

"_All children grow up," Antonio patted his friend's back, "I don't know what I'd have done if Lovino had been a child forever..." The Spaniard turned green at the thought and clutched at his stomach._

_Gilbert patted Ludwig's head, "That's right - and my brother will be the second most awesome Nation ever, after myself of course."_

_Ludwig liked listening to his brother's praise, and it was exciting to imagine himself as a huge powerful Nation like the others around him._

"_So Gil, where'd you find this cute little kid? Is he actually your brother, or did you just stumble across him?" Antonio relaxed back into the sofa, yawning widely._

"_Of course he's my bruder!" Gilbert snapped,_

"_Of course I am!" Ludwig echoed, feeling like his brother's statement needed more support._

_Antonio put his hands up, "Sorry, sorry, I was just asking."_

"_So where did you find him?" Francis questioned, laughing lightly, "We Nations aren't just dropped off by a stork, you know."_

_Ludwig blinked at them, then up at his brother. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember where he had met Gilbert for the first time._

_Feeling an uncomfortable buzz in his head, Ludwig ran a hand through his hair, ruining the tight style that his brother always ordered the servants to comb it into._

_He saw Francis' eyes flash for a moment and then his brother was hurrying him out of the room._

"_Go and play bruder, we've got some boring paperwork to do, I'll see you at dinner okay?"_

"_Okay."_

_Gilbert never came to dinner._


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur paced the room, letting out loud exclamations of anger from time-to-time while Francis watched him from his place on the sofa.

Here they were, and here Alfred wasn't.

"It was his bloody idea!" Arthur cursed, kicking over a well groomed potted plant, "Where is he?"

Francis sighed and rose to his feet. "He's not coming Arthur, you know that." Francis approached the Brit cautiously, knowing this was always a touchy subject. "He doesn't want to be part of it."

The Frenchman watched Arthur sink to his knees in despair, too exhausted to be angry any more.

"Francis, we can't do this without him, you know that…" he bit the side of his cheek, looking angry and ashamed with himself, "We're poor, we're not what we were."

Francis scoffed, holding Arthur by the shoulders and pulling him to his feet, "You're the British Empire for Dieu's sake! You'd better be listening, because I won't say this again. You have succeeded in what Rome himself dreamed of; Amerique only exists because of you - who knows what Antonio would have made of that nation? We could have ended up with two Romano's! Now pull yourself together!" Francis ended the speech by extending his hand towards the Englishman, "What do you say?"

Arthur studied the hand and mulled over (with some pleasure) what Francis had said. He held out his hand, but he hesitated.

"And you? How do I know I won't have to do this on my own?"

Francis laughed, grabbing Arthur's hand with a smirk, "I'm the Nation of France. Like I'd ever let England rule over me in something! Did I fight a hundred year war for nothing?"

Arthur grinned, shaking the Frenchman's hand, "Well, if you're up for it so am I."

The League of Nations. The idea had first been proposed by Alfred's President Wilson, but he'd been voted out in the next election and had been replaced with a Republican who supported America's retreat back into isolation, leaving Europe and the rest of the world to lick their own wounds.

"So," Francis hopped back onto the sofa, flashing a notebook from his breast pocket and pulling out a pen, "Who shall we send invites to?"

Arthur came to join him, snatching the pen from the Frenchman's hand with a playfully challenging look in his eyes.

"I say Canada." The Brit suggested, knowing that would be one they'd both agree on.

"We need Italy as well, he did help us out in the end during the war." Francis pointed out, tapping the paper to prompt him to write the name down.

"Does that mean Russia?" Arthur hesitated, glancing at Francis, but the Frenchman was shaking his head,

"Non, Russia is unstable, we don't want countries like that making decisions." The far off look on the Frenchman's face told Arthur that he was remembering his own state of mind during the French Revolution.

"What about Austria? He sided with Germany." Arthur pulled Francis out of his trance.

"Austria wasn't the invading party," Francis reminded him, "They were just allied with Germany and defending their empire."

Austria's name was added to the list along with Denmark, China, Japan, The Netherlands, Belgium, Greece, Norway, Finland, Poland, Spain, Sweden and Switzerland, along with many others from outside of Europe.

"And if Alfred wants to join, we let him." Arthur added 'America' in brackets to the bottom of the list, then added Germany and Russia, putting a cross next to them.

Francis waited on the sofa while Arthur ran to find a secretary to give the list to with instructions to send out invitations and take a copy to his boss.

When he returned it was to find the Frenchman with his arms spread along the top of the backrest and his eyes closed as though deep in thought, they opened when Arthur closed the door behind himself.

"What are you thinking about?" The Brit asked, leaning over the sofa so that they were facing each other.

One of Francis' hands came up to stroke the side of the Englishman's face, "Nothing important, cher." he assured him, bringing Arthur's face just close enough to his for their lips to brush.

Arthur felt his body flinch, though he didn't make any effort to reject the slight kiss.

Encouraged by this, Francis brought his other hand to take the other side of Arthur's face, pulling him down to make the kiss official. It was deeper than the kiss they'd shared in the carriage, but the Brit still kept his lips locked to avoid tongue contact, something to his surprise that the Frenchman accepted.

They parted, Francis grinned playfully, "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Arthur pulled a face and didn't reply, though he moved around the sofa and sat down next to the French Nation and snuggled against his chest, listening to the interesting flutter in Francis' chest that could only be his heart.

Francis ran a hand through Arthur's messy, untameable hair.

A sudden sound at the door caused Arthur to spring away from the Frenchman as if struck by lightning.

"Mr England, sir?" A young man appeared in the doorway. If he had seen anything, he didn't mention it. "The PM wants another copy of the list you made."

Arthur's cheeks flushed a deep pink as he scribbled another copy of the list in Francis' notebook and handed it over to the man, who hurried off again down the hall with the paper held in his hand.

"I heard Alfred's doing well." Arthur turned abruptly back to Francis, his tone too forced to be casual, "You know, with cars and stuff..."

Francis kept his trained eye on the Brit until he'd reduced the other man to a blushing mess. Getting to his feet, he made his way over to the paralysed Englishman. Gently Francis eased Arthur against the now closed door and fixed their mouths together.

If Arthur felt the strain of the door against his back, he didn't complain.

Tongues were now being used in the dual going on between their mouths.

Arthur knew it was illegal here, and knew he shouldn't be doing it, let alone enjoying it, but he knew he couldn't stop.

Maybe in his head it had become more acceptable because they were now allies, which begged the question as to how unsuitable it had been before that.

One of Francis' hands was holding Arthur's face in place while the other rested against the door near his head. The Brit's own hands were both tightly locked together in the Frenchman's hair, relaxing them only when both of them had to finally surface for breath.

They parted slowly, a trail of saliva still momentarily linking them.

"Arthur..."

"Hmm?" The Brit played with a strand of Francis' hair, he didn't like to interrupt the Frenchman when he sounded out of breath, especially when it was as lust filled as this, but Arthur couldn't suppress a gasp as he found Francis' mouth on his shoulder, holding back the material of the shirt so that the evidence of his sucking and kissing could be hidden.

He did however trail a path of butterfly kisses up the Brit's neck, back to his mouth where they shared one more kiss.

They were forced apart again by a knocking on the door.

The young man was back again.

"Mr England, sir, the Prime Minister wants to see you about the list."

Arthur sighed, his eyes meeting Francis' in a final lingering stare before he was forced out of the room and down the hall to the Prime Minister's office.

He knocked once before entering.

His Prime Minister was sitting behind his desk examining the list.

"You wanted to see me?"

The Prime Minister looked up and motioned for Arthur to sit down in the seat opposite the desk, "Yes, that's right." He waited until the Nation was sitting before continuing, "It's a good list, and I can understand why you've added who you have, but..." he hesitated, "Can we really do this without the Americans? Our military power is low after such a long war and we have very little money that we can spare."

Arthur nodded slowly, "Maybe so, but we are the next two countries after that, and we..."

"We?" His Prime Minister raised an eyebrow, placing the list on the table.

Arthur hoped that the Prime Minister would mistake his red face for embarrassment. "Yes, like you said we can't do it on our own. The French were our allies through the war, we can trust them..."

"So by 'we' you meant yourself and the French Nation?" The Prime Minister's tone was unreadable.

Arthur nodded, wishing that the ground would just open and swallow him now.

There was an awkward moment's silence for a while, then his Prime Minister turned back to the paper in hand, a sign that Arthur had been dismissed.

Arthur scurried back out of the room and let out a long breath, if this was going to go ahead with the French Nation they'd need to be more careful.

_**Author's Note: OMG, this chapter is so short, please forgive me, I'll make the next one extra long to make up for it.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long, my laptop is broken and I had to 'borrow' my brother's. Hope you enjoy though, there's some UsCan stuff in this chapter.**_

"This is the life, right Matty?" Alfred laughed, reclining back into the arms of a sea of beautiful and stylish looking women.

They all giggled and began grooming his hair and handing him glasses of wine from a coffee table nearby, but all of the women kept bursting into fits of giggles and spilling the alcohol before they could bring it to Alfred's lips.

Matthew raised an eyebrow but knew Alfred didn't care what anybody else thought, and that if he did, the Canadian Nation would be the last one he'd ever ask. In fact, Alfred didn't even particularly seem to care that Matthew hadn't given a reply to his first statement.

The American Nation was a little drunk, but not as drunk as the women around him were.

Matthew wondered what exactly the point had been when Alfred had phoned him up and insisted that he come down to New York immediately to see him.

Matthew had been in the middle of sorting through some important Commonwealth paperwork for Arthur and had received an invitation in the post from said Nation to join The League of Nations when his boss had come racing into the room with the phone cord extended as far as it would go between the two adjoining offices.

He had arrived about an hour ago in Alfred's huge estate on Long Island and left his luggage in the marble front hall, only to find that Alfred wasn't even in his office.

Letting out a long sigh, Matthew gave up on waiting for Alfred to remember what he'd called the Canadian four hundred and forty miles for.

He wandered back into the hall from the living room to admire some of the paintings that Alfred had added to his collection. He knew Arthur and Francis didn't approve of the way Alfred kept his art. Alfred had once told them that the reason he had so many expensive paintings was to show people how rich he was.

It was the first time Matthew had been to visit this particular house of Alfred's. Last time he'd come down during the war to discuss tactics they'd been in Washington where Alfred had lived just down the lane from his boss.

This particular house was bigger and grander than any other Matthew had ever seen before. His humble house in Ottawa seemed like log cabin next to Alfred's mansion.

The front hall entirely consisted of white marble with a set of wide, white stairs leading to the second floor where the most important bedrooms were. Above them were the ordinary rooms and even higher up in the attic was where the servants slept.

At home, Matthew had a cook and a cleaner who both had Sundays and Wednesdays off and he'd never wanted for more. He wasn't sure what he'd even begin to do with a house that consisted of over fifty servants - not including kitchen staff.

Perhaps he should go and lie down and wait for Alfred's 'friends' to leave before trying to get a serious word out of him?

A very embarrassed and nervous young maid showed him to his room on the second floor where his luggage had already been taken by the footmen. He thanked her and she smiled and curtsied, closing the door behind her as she returned to her work.

Beginning to unpack his clothes and store them away in the cupboards, he almost fell down on his bed fully clothed, but he then rose again, reminding himself of Francis' teachings, and went to have a bath before going to bed.

He smiled as he stripped off his clothes and folded them neatly on a chair, remembering those words Francis had always spoken when Matthew was fussy about getting into the water. _"If you don't wash every day you'll end up just like Arthur and Alfred"_.

Of course, bath rules had become more lax when Francis and Arthur actually moved into a house together to raise the little Nations, but Matthew had always stayed loyal to Francis' teachings.

Although it was warmer down in New York than it had been in Ottawa, Matthew was grateful for the wonderfully warm water that began to flow from the tap into the bath.

Taking off his glasses last, Matthew placed them on the counter by the sink, knowing they'd be steamed up by the time he put them back on.

Letting his bed rest against the back of the tub he just lay in the water letting all the warmth spread to every part of his body, soothing his aching muscles from sitting on that train for so long.

"Matty?"

Matthew jumped at the sound of Alfred's voice from the bedroom, instinctively reaching down to cover himself.

"I-I'm in the bath," he stammered, "You can talk through the door if…"

But before he could finish, Alfred opened the door with a grin, already pulling his shirt off and dumping it on the floor, knocking all Matthew's neatly piled clothes that had been sitting on the toilet seat to join his own on the floor.

"Well, budge up then!" Alfred grinned, looking like he was about to dive into the bath.

Crossing his legs, Matthew held up his hands to cover the American's pride, thankful for once that neither his nor Alfred's eyesight was very good without their glasses.

"You're not seri-…" Again Matthew didn't have the chance to finish because Alfred had taken advantage of the space that had opened up now Matthew had crossed his legs and leapt in.

Thankfully, it was still quite a big bath even with the two of them in there.

Matthew would have covered his face in despair and embarrassment - if he wasn't already preoccupied covering himself and avoiding looking down at Alfred.

He was just going to have a nice relaxing bath and go to bed - why did Alfred have to ruin everything? Unless what Alfred had to discuss with him was so serious that they needed to have the conversation where nobody could possibly overhear them…

"Have the women gone?" Matthew found himself asking, just to make conversation.

Alfred blinked, like he'd just been lost in thought, then glanced up at Matthew with a wide grin. "Of course not - they just went to get changed, the rest of the party arrives later!"

"The rest of the party?" Matthew echoed, feeling what was left of his hope that this had actually been a serious invite fade away.

"Yeah! You're coming down, right Matty?" It was more of a prompt than a question, so Matthew didn't feel he needed to say anything in reply. There went his early night.

"Those girls were really hot right?" Alfred winked knowingly at him, "I thought I saw you eyeing Sapphy up…"

If he hadn't already been blushing, Matthew certainly was now. It was true that he'd noticed one of the girls was particularly good looking, with a sharp pointed face and wonderful bright blue eyes that lit up when she laughed, a little like…

Matthew mentally slapped himself before his brain could finish its train of thought.

He noticed that Alfred was still watching him with a contemplative expression, studying his reaction carefully.

"What?" Matthew bit his lip, feeling a little uncomfortable, especially when a glint struck through Alfred's expression along with a wide and excited grin.

"Well…"

Matthew's breath hitched as Alfred leant closer to him to whisper in his ear.

The poor Canadian blushed and paled at the same time, his heart pounding like crazy behind his ribcage.

He pulled away from Alfred, his eyes wide. "B-B-B-But…" he stammered like crazy, "You can't do… I mean, it's not right…" Struggling for the right words, Matthew tried to imagine what Francis and Arthur would do.

Arthur would go bright red in the face and hit whoever had suggested such a thing, and Francis would be all in. Which one did he do?

Although Matthew had backed away, the American hadn't moved, his face still close enough to the Canadian's to feel his warm breath against his skin.

"Don't be shy Matty, I've done this sort of thing before - I'll help you through it." Alfred assured him. Like that was the problem!

With a loud squeak of alarm, Matthew's whole body tensed, "You mean you'd be there too?"

Alfred laughed, "Well that's kind of the point of this sort of thing…" he smirked, "Unless you'd rather do it on your own?"

Honestly, Matthew would rather not do it at all. It sounded awful and he couldn't believe Alfred had even suggested such a thing.

"The girls are fine with it too, I've already asked them."

Again, Alfred seemed to be failing to grasp the problem.

"And my bed is big enough…"

Unable to listen anymore, Matthew half climbed and half fell out of the bath, grabbing for a towel to cover himself. Alfred was still leaning against the side of the bath, resting his chin on his arms watching Matthew with amusement.

"I'll leave you to think about it then." he smiled with a look in his eyes that made Matthew's chest and stomach hurt.

Without another word to the American, Matthew fled the bathroom, tripping over a chair on the way and remembering that he'd forgotten his glasses. Well, there was no way he was going back for them while Alfred was still in there.

Dressing himself in some new clothes from the cupboard, Matthew fell back down on his bed. What was he meant to do now?

'Wasn't it simple?' he told himself, he just had to say no to Alfred. The American wouldn't care, it meant he'd have all three of the pretty girls to himself.

But then why did it seem so difficult?

Swallowing, Matthew reached for the bedside phone and rang the number he wanted as quietly as he could.

"_Hello?"_

"Arthur it's me, Matthew." the Canadian whispered, hoping that his conversation wouldn't be overheard by Alfred who he could still hear splashing in the bath like a five year old.

"_Matthew? What is it? Or rather… How much is this call going to cost!?"_

"Please I need your advice…" Perhaps Arthur hadn't been the best to call - after all, he already knewhow the Brit would have reacted himself anyway.

"_What is it? Keeping in mind that it's past one in the morning here."_

"Sorry," Matthew had forgotten the time difference, "It's about… well… Alfred suggested something funny, you see…"

"_What sort of funny?"_

Matthew could hear the Englishman's suspicious tone beginning to prick.

"_Is this about the League?"_

The League? Oh right! Matthew had almost forgotten.

"No, it isn't, but about that my boss thinks it's a good idea for us to join so I'm in…"

"_Then what is this about?" _Arthur's tone relaxed, but he was now starting to sound tired and annoyed.

"See, Alfred called me down here and I arrived and he had three really, really pretty girls with him then he burst in on me when I was having a bath and got in, then asked if I wanted a…" Matthew did the maths on his fingers, the volume of his voice dropping into almost inaudible shame, "A fivesome…"

"_A what!?" _There was a loud crash from the other end of the line that suggested Arthur had just fallen out of bed.

Matthew buried his head in his pillow; he didn't want to repeat it.

"_This is all Francis' influence; I knew I shouldn't have let him near the boy!" _Arthur was muttering, _"I hope you told him no Matthew!"_

The silence gave Arthur his answer.

"_You d-didn't agree?"_

"O-Of course not!" Even Matthew could stand up for himself here, "I just didn't know what to say and wanted to know what you think?"

"_What I think?" _Arthur sounded flattered, but then he yawned and made a soft sound to himself, _"Matthew, although I wouldn't do it, you're a grown man now and so is Alfred. I can't tell you what you should or shouldn't do… What do you want to do?"_

"I…" Matthew slammed the phone down quickly as he heard the bathroom door opening.

The American still had the towel around his shoulders, though Matthew was pleased to see he'd at least pulled his trousers on.

"Who were you calling, Matty?"

"I-I was just testing the phone…" Matthew knew that Alfred would find out eventually when he saw his massive phone bill, but hopefully by then the Canadian would be back in his cosy house in front of a fire far away from New York with no regrets.

Alfred seemed to accept this answer. "I'm going to get dressed. I'll see you at the party, it starts at nine. Oh, and give me your answer when you've got one!" with that he left the room.

"What am I going to do?" Now he wished he'd brought his bear Kumajirou with him, even if the bear could never remember his name he always gave great advice - especially when Alfred was involved.

No, he had to say no, right? It was the right and decent thing to do, how could he regret saying no?

_**AN: There's a pole on my user as to whether Matthew should say yes, no or nothing on my author page, please vote~**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note: UsCan won, though in light of how close the vote was and because I'd like to develop their relationship more, this won't be an M chapter.**_

Moving in an almost dream like state, Matthew headed along the corridor where he could already hear the party in full swing.

Alfred must have ordered a band, because Matthew could hear strange music spouting from saxophones and instruments he couldn't even name coming from downstairs.

Coming out onto the balcony and looking down, Matthew was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the sea of people below.

There were a lot of women, but plenty of men too who were talking loudly or dancing with the women, a glass of something alcoholic in their hands.

Placing one sweaty and trembling hand on the banister, Matthew managed to sneak down the huge grand staircase without anybody noticing him - though of course that was pretty normal for him.

Manoeuvring his way delicately through the crowd, the Canadian Nation found himself a discreet corner near the entrance to the kitchens.

Thankfully, nobody seemed interested in eating because of all the drinks that were on offer, so he was safe here. Though he wasn't sure what he was in danger of either. Although these people were drunk, Matthew was sure they were very nice too.

He sighed, he knew he was lying to himself - he was hiding from Alfred.

"Heya."

Matthew jumped.

It was only a drunk girl. He let his heart rate return to normal as he observed her. She seemed far too young to be at a party like this. She was by no means a child, but not an adult either.

"Hi." Matthew replied, unsure what else to say in response.

"My name," hiccupped the girl, "is Laurie. What's yours?" Her words were slurring together heavily and Matthew had to focus hard to understand what she was saying.

"I'm Matthew." Matthew replied with equal blandness as his first answer.

The girl giggled, performing a few spins on the spot until she looked about ready to fall over.

"I haven't seen you at these parties before." she grinned, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Have you ever been to one of these parties before?" Matthew asked, feeling himself raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

She pouted, crossing her arms and looking annoyed, "You're just meant to say that when you're chatting up a guy!" she scolded, hiccupping again and collapsing into a fit of giggles.

Slightly unnerved, Matthew left the girl in a giggling heap, hoping that no harm would come to her, though he expected she'd be safe here.

Turning a corner back into the main room, Matthew walked straight into the person he was trying most to avoid.

"Matty!" Alfred grinned, "I've been looking all over for you, I thought you might be in your room and was just about to go and check when I remembered I hadn't looked here yet."

Matthew smiled but he could feel himself trembling and was hopeful that Alfred wouldn't notice. He wasn't disappointed.

"I'll see you later, Matty." Alfred grinned, waving over his shoulder and wandering back to the party where Matthew almost instantly heard him call out, "More drinks for all!"

"You know Mr Jones?"

Matthew turned around and looked down to see the drunken girl on the floor by his feet, tugging at his trouser leg.

"Sort of." Matthew replied, unsure if he really wanted to go into details. He moved his leg away from Laurie gently - she was too drunk to hold onto it with any effort anyway.

In the other room, Alfred looked back over his shoulder in the direction of the corridor where he'd found Matthew.

Did Matthew really think that Alfred wouldn't have noticed how nervous he was making him? Alfred huffed. To be fair on himself, none of that had been intentional - Matthew was just so jumpy all the time.

"Alfie~!"

Alfred cringed slightly at the silly, whiny, female voice. It was one of the girls he'd been with when Matthew had arrived - to make matters worse, she seemed to be the one Matthew had taken a liking to.

She was tall and slender, with a pointed face and short blond hair. She was one of the girls he'd invited to this... event, to lure Matthew into agreeing.

Alfred mentally cursed Arthur, he blamed him for this. Alfred knew he had characteristics from both France and England just like Canada, but both of them seemed to have inherited Arthur's incapability to express their feelings.

If only he was a bit more like Francis in this field, not so much as he came across as a pervert, but just enough to give him the courage to actually tell Matthew what he felt about him rather than tiptoeing around the subject and setting up unsavoury activities like this just to give him the chance of maybe being able to have his way with Matthew if he got him drunk enough.

The downside to this plan was that Matthew didn't appear to be drinking at all.

Francis' lesson to Alfred when they'd been children was if you really liked someone and weren't sure how they felt about you, then get them drunk and sleep with them. When they woke up in the morning they'd either be horrified or delighted - and it wouldn't matter either way, because at least you'd slept with them.

Somehow Alfred wasn't sure if that's really the wager he wanted to pull with Matthew, but he couldn't think of anything else.

Alfred turned to Sapphy with a smile, holding out his arm for her to take. She took it with a wide, toothy grin, waving to her friends as they moved through the crowd.

"So," she leaned closer, "When do we get to business? The other girls are ready when you and your..._friend_ are."

Alfred fought back his anger, he hated that tone she used to describe Matthew - like he was some sort of optional extra and not the main focus of the night.

To Alfred, this whole charade was for Matthew.

"Let's wait a little longer, okay?" Alfred told her, "though if you're that desperate, you and the girls can go and get ready in the room, it's the second along on the left upstairs corridor."

She giggled and hurried back into the crowd to find her friends.

As she vanished out of sight, Alfred let his smile fade back to a frown. He reached for a drink - he needed to relax himself, this was stupid. He was The United States of America, the rising power of the world; and he'd done it on his own without the need of an Empire to support him - why couldn't he just breeze through this like Francis!?

Throwing back the drink in one gulp, Alfred reached for another.

The girls were getting ready - he couldn't put off pressing Matthew for his answer any longer. The question was, what was he going to do if Matthew said 'no'?

Alfred clambered up the first couple of stairs, looking out over the people for Matthew. Why did the Canadian have to be so hard to spot?

If Matthew hadn't been avoiding him Alfred was fairly sure that Matthew would come to him.

Then. There he was.

He was standing by the drinks table looking unsure of himself, his hand resting on one of the full glasses.

Pushing his way through the crowd, Alfred reached Matthew just in time to hold the drink away from him.

In a split second decision he'd decided that perhaps Arthur was a little bit right and maybe worth listening to when he told you not to listen to love advice from (to quote) 'that French perverted bastard!'

"A-Alfred…" Matthew stammered, his hand tensing, "I was just going to have a drink, then I was going to come and find you..."

"No." Alfred fixed a stern look on the Canadian. It wasn't a look he liked or often used but it always had the right effect in the times he did.

Matthew put the glass back down on the table, looking close to tears.

"Sorry Alfred, I just... I couldn't give you an answer - I thought this might help..." Matthew was cut-off when the American grabbed his hand pulling him from the drinks table, to the door, then out into the garden.

There were a few couples in the gardens getting up to who only knows what in the bushes, but it was quieter than it had been in the house.

"I shouldn't have put you in that situation Matty. I'm the one who should be sorry," Alfred bit his lip - he hated admitting he was wrong, and Matthew was the only person he'd do it for.

There was an awkward silence between them until they looked down and realised Alfred was still holding Matthew's hand.

They broke apart, turning away from each other, each trying to conceal their own blush from the other.

"I'll do it..."

Alfred looked up, shocked.

"Do what?" He asked, his voice catching in his throat.

"This...thing... If it's what you want Alfred..."

When Matthew said his name, Alfred felt bolts travel up his spine. What had seemed like a good idea at the time was quickly turning into a nightmare.

He couldn't share Matthew with anyone else, even if they were only silly drunk human girls.

"No..."

Matthew blinked, a look of confusion gracing his innocent features. He only just had time to register their distance when Alfred closed the space between them, pressing his mouth gently against Matthew's.

The Canadian remained stunned, "I-I don't understand."

Alfred pressed his hand against Matthew's cheek, brushing the hair from his face, "I didn't think you'd want to sleep with me if I just asked, so I invited some girls to get you into the mood and I'm really, really sorry. But I don't want to just sleep with you, Matty..."

Feeling his body moving of its own accord, Matthew craned his neck up, kissing Alfred himself, opening his mouth slightly when he felt Alfred's tongue against his lips.

Their glasses banged together awkwardly, and when they parted Alfred's had managed to get caught in Matthew's hair.

Matthew laughed as Alfred tried to untangle them, looking completely humiliated that their first proper kiss had been messed up by something like this.

When they were completely separate again, they exchanged a shy smile.

"You don't often look shy." Matthew grinned, his heart pattering around his chest, making his head feel light with all the rushes of happiness that were going to it.

All it had taken was that kiss from Alfred to tell him why he always got those cramps in his chest when he saw him, or why he loved those blue eyes.

"Well don't get used to it." Alfred huffed, still red in the face, looking more like Arthur than Matthew had ever seen him, which only made the Canadian laugh harder.

Everything had turned out for the best after all.

Everything was okay with the world. The War had finished and Europe was far away, even if Matthew was in the League, all it meant was that nothing bad would ever happen again with the world - they'd all work together for peace.

They had one year like that.


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur and Francis exchanged a glance from where they sat at the head of a large room of Nations.

Italy was sitting to Francis' other side with his brother, and Matthew and Switzerland sat on Arthur's side.

At the very centre of the room was the centre of all the commotion.

Poland stood with an arrogant grin on his face, right in the middle of the brown marble floor, gazing around at the Nation's watching him. Some shouted out insults, others cheered him and some simply looked as if they weren't sure how to react.

Not quite in the centre but still visible to all Nations in the room, was the quiet Nation of Lithuania.

Although Arthur didn't know the eastern European countries very well, even he knew the long accepted understanding that Poland and Lithuania had always been on friendly terms. Even when their people weren't the Nation's themselves, they had never been known to have a serious fight.

And yet here they stood.

Every time Lithuania managed to bring himself to look up from his feet and glance at Poland, he clenched his teeth and fists and looked quickly back down at the ground.

Of course their bosses were having their own discussion on the matter as well, but the Nation's opinions would carry into the final decision.

Clearing his throat, Arthur rose to his feet, fixing his fierce green eyes on anybody who was still muttering until the entire hall was silent.

"Feliks Łukasiewicz, the Nation of Poland, do you understand why you have been brought before this hearing?" Although he felt a little silly saying it, this was the standard that The League had agreed on at the beginning.

They had to show the world that The League was to be taken seriously and that they meant to do what they'd set out to do.

Feliks grinned. "I know why I'm here." he smirked, shooting a mocking look at Lithuania who was getting to the point where he was struggling to ignore it.

Nodding, Arthur turned a blind eye to the jibe and continued. "Toris Laurinaitis, the Nation of Lithuania, do you understand why you have been brought before this hearing?"

Raising his burning and humiliated eyes to meet Arthur's, Toris nodded.

"To those who still have not been informed of the situation..." Arthur doubted there was anyone here who wasn't already aware but he had to read out the charges anyway just in case. "...On April 19th 1919, Polish forces entered Vilnius as part of a pact between to two countries to drive out Bolshavik forces. This was successful and Lithuania signed a peace treaty with Russia, but since then there has been endless fighting over the Lithuanian capital..." Arthur placed the sheet of paper he'd been reading off down on the table and sat down, it was Francis' turn to speak.

"Feliks, would you tell us your side of the story?"

Despite wanting to do the right thing as their first major test. Arthur knew that he and Francis saw Poland as a possible ally should Germany ever rise up again, and they couldn't afford to upset him. It was clear by the Polish Nation's cocky attitude that he knew this too.

"He," Feliks extended an accusing finger at Toris, "Signed a peace treaty with Russia. Besides," Feliks sniffed, "Vilnius is as much our capital as his - after all, it was one of our capitals when we were a commonwealth."

Arthur saw Toris' ears flush red at the mention of the commonwealth.

"It's my capital!" Toris suddenly snapped, marching straight up to Feliks and facing him with a glare. Although Toris was usually a timid and polite Nation, it had to be noted that he was taller than the Polish Nation and looked a lot more threatening.

Feliks shrugged without flinching, shooting Toris a nasty grin. "That's for the League to decide."

Toris pulled away from Feliks and looked up at Francis and Arthur at the head table with their raised platform. "I had to sign a peace treaty with Russia, we didn't stand a chance against their army, the Russians did us a favour by letting us finish in peace..."

"Peace!" Feliks spat, "You're an idiot, Liet, if that's what you believe Russia wants. Mark my words - he'll be back in Lithuania in no time flat and have you under his boot again!"

Conversation and arguments began to spring up around the room again, until the voices escalated to a level where nobody could understand anybody else.

Arthur was shocked. So this must be what it was like to be in a meeting when he and Francis were arguing to the stage where nobody else could make themselves heard, except this time he and Francis were the only ones not in need of silencing…

Francis coughed lightly, trying to draw everyone's attention back to the organised committee they were meant to be, but it was to no avail.

Even the Nations like Finland, Canada, Greece, Japan, Norway and Italy were shouting at the tops of their voices to their neighbours, adding to the noise already being made by the louder Nations.

Suddenly Arthur leapt to his feet, a furious look on his face. "Shut it!" He bellowed, his voice carrying over all the others, causing them to stop dead in silence, their eyes pinned on the Englishman.

"We have heard both sides of this argument, we will now have time to _politely _discuss this event and make a decision by means of a vote. Everyone will meet back here at nine this evening."

With those words, everybody began to quietly shift from the room until only Arthur and Francis were left.

Without shifting his gaze, Arthur spoke in a toneless steady voice. "Lithuania cannot win this vote."

Francis' hand touched his shoulder lightly. "You're right... We have four hours to see if this vote goes the way we want it. You talk to the Northern Europeans and I'll talk to the Southerners and Canada - that should give us pretty much an overall majority."

Arthur still didn't shift his gaze until he heard a door close and knew the Frenchman had gone.

With a sigh, Arthur headed through the door to find the hallway outside empty.

The other Nations must be in their personal offices or the dining room.

Deciding to start in the dining room, Arthur was successful in finding the Scandinavians drinking a pint of beer around one of the tables, from the bar.

Grabbing a pint of his own, Arthur went to join them.

The moment he arrived the others looked up at him with deep suspicion.

"What are you doing here England?" Denmark asked, glaring up at the Brit, daring him to sit down.

Arthur sat.

"I can sit where I like." Arthur turned his nose up at them, then remembered that he was meant to be persuading them to vote on his side. "So, how is it in Scandinavia?"

"Fine." Finland replied with a smile, "What about your home?"

Before Arthur could reply, Sweden interrupted.

"Yer 'ere t' try and persuade us t' v'te y'ur way" the stoic Nordic growled, "we c'n v'te fur our s'lves."

Sensing that he was losing them, Arthur called for another round of drinks.

"Surely the point of this pause is so Nations can discuss their opinions, surely that means it's better to involve yourself outside your comfort zone," Arthur stirred absent-mindedly at his new full glass of beer with his finger.

"That is true…" Finland pointed out to the others, "Surely discussing our ideas won't do any harm…"

Sweden grunted, but didn't argue with Finland while Denmark and Norway exchanged a thoughtful look.

"Fine." Denmark replied finally, "I'd ask you to take a seat, but you already have." he chuckled lightly under his breath, though his aggression towards Arthur was still clear.

Denmark and Arthur had held a grudge against one another going back to Kind Alfred's time, so it was pretty clear to Arthur why Denmark was being so hostile towards him.

"So, how are you voting?"

"On Lithuania's side, of course." Denmark scoffed, "Poland is clearly in the wrong."

Arthur nodded slowly, pretending to be listening to the other Nation's point. "But surely you can recognise the key position Poland is in? If Germany rises again we can enclose them, but most importantly, Poland is our safeguard from Russia. The Polish army is bigger than Lithuania's and will be able to protect Vilnius much more effectively."

Arthur saw that the others had been hit by his point. Even countries with low populations and little interest in Europe were worried about the Soviets, and Denmark was nervous about Germany on his border.

Denmark and Sweden dropped their gazes, looking angry, but Arthur knew he'd made his point.

Draining his glass, he placed it down on the table and got to his feet to find Switzerland and Austria, wondering how much luck Francis was having with the Southern Europeans. Matthew would be easy to persuade and so would Italy, but Romano and Spain would be difficult - they were unlikely to vote for anything Francis wanted them to.

He found both Switzerland and Austria in the Austrian's office down the hall. When he arrived Arthur could see from their annoyed expressions that they'd been discussing the Vilnius problem with deep consideration.

Both these countries bordered Germany, and Austria was all too aware that his reputation when it came to dealing with the Germans was not very high at the moment. This was his chance to prove that he was on their side once and for all.

"How are the discussions going?" Arthur asked, closing the door behind him and leaning against the wall, looking perfectly at ease.

"You know full well!" Switzerland snapped, "This is a nasty situation we're in... but whatever you say and whatever reasons you give, I'm voting for Lithuania." Switzerland stepped away from Austria and went to look out of his window before muttering, "Roderich can do what he likes."

Arthur gave Austria a small encouraging smile, enough to let the Nation know that Arthur thought he was doing the right thing by siding with Poland.

He slipped back out of the room - that was everybody. Checking his watch, he realised he still had almost two hours to spare.

Returning to the dining room, he found that the Scandinavians had gone, but Francis was sitting with Matthew at one of the tables enjoying a small dinner. There was an extra dish at the table, so Arthur supposed that Francis must have been expecting him.

He sat down and was surprised to find the food still warm - Francis' timing was perfect.

It also seemed like Francis had just finished his discussion with Matthew about the vote, and was now looking at Matthew with a look of pride and horror.

It was a funny combination and ensnared Arthur's attention for so long he forgot to eat.

When Francis clicked his fingers in front of him and Arthur remembered why he was here, he glanced between Francis and Matthew.

"Have I missed something?"

Francis opened his mouth then closed it again before taking a deep breath, holding a serious expression, "Matthieu, here, has started a relationship with that insufferable American."

Matthew blushed, "Francis, he's not that bad..."

The Frenchman scoffed at this, dismissing it with a wave of his hand.

"So you...!?" Arthur gave a squeak of alarm staring at Matthew with his mouth open, remembering that phone call before Christmas.

Matthew's entire face steamed red as he shook his head quickly, "No, no, I didn't and he didn't either."

Now it was Francis' turn to look lost.

"Alfred was following your advice." if possible Matthew did sound a little annoyed when he looked back at the Frenchman.

"My advice?" Francis tilted his head in puzzlement.

"The advice about getting drunk and bribing someone to bed with lots of pretty girls to tempt them?" Matthew offered, blinking at Francis until a look of understanding slapped the older Nation in the face.

"He tried to use that on Little Matthieu?!" Francis looked furious, "The next time I see him..."

"You gave Alfred advice like that!?" Arthur whacked the Frenchman round the back of the head, "I knew you were perverted, but I had no idea you'd taught them stuff like that!"

"I didn't teach Matthieu." Francis pointed out, rubbing his head and earning another whack.

"You didn't teach him, so he didn't know what to look out for!"

"Well, he knows now." Francis shrugged, trying a winning smile that earned him a fist clamped on his hair.

Arthur heard Matthew laughing as he watched the two of them fighting.

Arthur pulled away feeling silly and immature. They were older than Matthew and should be setting an example, but instead they were constantly fighting and providing irritation or amusement for the other Nations.

The Brit held his tongue and a stiff upper lip, ignoring any further attempts Francis made to argue with him. But the irritating part was that now both Francis and Matthew seemed to be finding it funny.

They managed to pass the next couple of hours talking like this (Arthur's vow of silence had only lasted five minutes), and as the clock struck nine they shuffled back into the meeting room with the other Nations.

The vote to support Poland was carried.

As Arthur announced the result, he saw a look of horror pass over Lithuania's face - he was so shocked that slowly he sank down to the floor and gave a small murmur of distress.

The voting Nations looked uncomfortable and couldn't watch as Poland paraded around the hall with a victorious look on his face.

"Did we definitely to do the right thing?" Matthew wondered aloud in his timid voice as they left the hall, "I mean... in what way can we justify our vote?"

Francis patted the younger Nations' head, "It hasn't been carried yet - our bosses still need to vote and we don't know how that'll turn out..."

Arthur scoffed, this was like Francis telling Matthew that the puppy they'd had when Matthew was a child hadn't died - it had just decided to become a wild dog and join a pack of wolves where he could start a family and have children of his own.

Francis glared at him but didn't have any time to say anything before a fist to the side of his head almost knocked him out cold. It certainly threw him backwards up the stairs that lead up to the League of Nation's meeting place.

Matthew immediately bent down to try and help him while Arthur skilfully dodged another punch that was aimed his way. He caught the arm and held whoever it was steady.

Lithuania's lip was turned back in a snarl as he pulled his arm out of Arthur's grasp.

"You two did this!" He growled, looking ready to savage one of them, "I've lost my home, my capital and respect because of your stupid League!"

"Surely you understand, Poland will be able to protect your capital..." Arthur tried to reason with him, taking the last couple of steps down to the solid ground, he didn't fancy being pushed down the stairs.

"It's not _my _capital any more, it's just a Polish city!" Lithuania took advantage of the height he now had over the British Nation and jumped at him.

Arthur fell, smacking his head down on the hard ground. Lithuania was pinning him to the ground with one hand and the other was clasped tightly around Arthur's throat, enough to be uncomfortable but not enough to cut off the oxygen completely.

"Russia was right, I was better off with him than at the mercy of you bastards!"

With a yank Lithuania was pulled off Arthur by Francis.

Looking furious, the Frenchman forced Lithuania away from them. "Get out of here you pathetic excuse for a country, it's your fault not ours that you lost your capital - if you want it back so much, fight Poland for it."

Lithuania bit his lip. "I can't, his forces are stronger than mine, I don't have the money to invest in the armies I used to have... But," he looked angry again, "Isn't that what the League is for? Protecting smaller countries from the bigger ones that bully them?"

"You talk about Russia in that way and then talk about bullies in the same minute." Francis smirked, "You hypocrite." he laughed softly, "Get out of here." although his expression hadn't changed, there was an air of warning in his final four words.

Lithuania hesitated, then he hung his head and began to walk slowly back to the carriage that was waiting for him.

"Are you okay, Arthur?" Matthew fussed, trying to tend to the back of Arthur's head which was bleeding somewhat.

"I'm fine." Arthur told him, "I just need to get this washed and then lie down or something."

"Non, Matthew's right. You could be concussed, in fact, judging by the way it's bleeding, I'd say you were. You'd better come back with one of us so we can keep an eye on you…"

Arthur grunted, lifted his head to snap something at the Frenchman and fainted clean away.

_**Author's note: There, a nice long chapter~ I hope this makes up for how short the others have been.**_


	8. Chapter 8

"Francis, I'm still not sure it was the right thing to do..." Arthur bit his lip, wincing slightly as the Frenchman patched up the back of his head in his hotel room. Arthur was perched on the foot of the bed, while Francis sat behind him with a first aid kit beside him.

They'd said goodbye to Matthew on his floor, but he'd only go after Francis had promised that he'd make sure Arthur was okay overnight - something the Brit had protested to as strongly as possible until he tripped over his own feet on his march away from them.

"Arthur..."

Arthur heard Francis sigh his name and move around so that they were facing each other. "We didn't have a choice. You know that, and the bosses voted the same way - and it's their vote that counts."

Arthur nodded. When he thought about it logically from his country's point of view, Francis was right - they hadn't had a choice. Poland was in a valuable position against both Russia and Germany should they ever attack, so they couldn't afford to upset him.

There were two types of right and wrong, Arthur reminded himself. There was doing something that felt good at the time but would come back to bite you, and doing something that seemed wrong when the decision was made, but overall has the best outcome.

The two of them sat contemplating each other for a moment.

"Do you really think there's going to be another war?" Arthur asked finally, clenching his hands on his knee.

Francis thought for a moment, "I don't know Arthur. There could be, though, and it's that chance we have to look out for."

Nodding, Arthur rose to his feet, unsure where they went next.

"I'm going back to my room."

"No you're not." The Frenchman replied simply, taking up Arthur's old position, perched on the edge of the bed, "You're concussed, remember? I need to keep an eye on you over night." Francis smirked, watching a deep blush cover the Brit's face.

Arthur stayed where he was, watching the French Nation rise to his feet and approach him slowly. He flinched as the Frenchman's finger brushed against his cheek.

Slowly, steadily they began to etch a little closer until they could feel each other's breath lightly tickling their faces.

For a moment so brief, Arthur knew he could have imagined it, their lips touched.

Then the door was thrown open and Matthew burst in.

Arthur sprung backwards, his heart hammering in his chest, staring at Matthew with wide, shocked green eyes.

By the look on Matthew's face, Arthur guessed he was getting a similar look from Francis, but the Frenchman had recovered quickly.

"What is it, Matthieu?"

"I..." Matthew shook his head quickly, remembering the urgency of what had brought him, "A fight's broken out in the lobby, you'd better come."

Allowing his hair to lie flat, Arthur joined the conversation as he followed Francis and Matthew from the hotel room and down the corridor. "Is it Poland and Lithuania?"

"No," Matthew shook his head, "You're not going to believe this - first Poland and Lithuania, now Sweden and Finland are arguing!" Matthew sounded like he couldn't believe it even as he said it. "Have those two ever fought before?"

Arthur and Francis blinked dumbly, thinking back over their long memory and shaking their heads.

Downstairs in the lobby, an argument really was unfolding.

"What do you mean?!" Finland demanded at the Swede, who was standing perfectly still with the same terrifying, unreadable expression as always.

"Fin..." Sweden took a step closer, but the Finnish Nation was already stepping away furiously.

"Don't come near me!"

Sweden stopped abruptly. He let out a long sigh, "Tino the decision h's b'n m'de... y'ur v'te w'n, b't you know the decision w's m'de f'r all the wr'ng r'sons."

"Just because it wasn't the same as yours?" Finland scoffed, looking around at the small crowd of Nations that had gathered around them.

"No, Tino, you kn'w this v'te w'sn't f'r the good of the weaker N'tion th't the L'gue is m'nt to pr't'ct."

"Shut up!" The Fin threw a vase of flowers as hard as he could at the other Nordic Nation. It met its target, knocking Sweden to the ground.

The other Nations held their breath, waiting for the Swedish Nation to react, but he just sat there in the puddle with his head bowed and a cut over his left eye that was bleeding slowly over his eye and smudging his glasses.

"What are you all looking at?!" Finland growled around at the others, fixing them with an aggressive glare.

Nobody moved until Denmark made his way through the crowd towards Sweden. With his eyes fixed on the Finn, Denmark held out his hand to help the Swede to his feet.

When Arthur looked closer, he could faintly see the Swedish Nation's shoulders trembling slightly.

Alarmed at the very thought that the stoic northern Nation might be crying, Arthur began trying to move the crowd himself, making himself sound as authoritative as possible.

Thankfully, the others began to listen to him and slowly trudged back to their own rooms, leaving the Nordics, Francis and Arthur.

"Denmark, can you get Sweden back to his room?" Arthur suggested, looking around for something he could use to clean up the mess as best as he could. He'd hate for someone to come down in the morning and cut something on the shattered vase.

Denmark nodded, motioning towards Norway who came forward immediately to help him hoist Sweden to his feet and lead him in the direction of the stairs, Iceland followed after them, glancing over his shoulder occasionally.

While Arthur began to clean up the glass with a dustpan and brush he'd found behind the reception counter, Francis approached a trembling Finland.

"Are you okay?" He asked tentatively, placing a hand on Finland's shoulder.

The Finn shook himself free and walked silently towards the staircase without looking at either of them.

Arthur finished picking up the glass and deposited it in one of the bins.

"This isn't right..." Francis shook his head, "Something's gone terribly wrong somewhere, the tensions between Nations are running so high..." Francis buried his head in his hands, looking exhausted.

Swallowing hard Arthur did something he'd never of even contemplated doing before. He stepped up close enough to Francis so that their chests were touching and took the Frenchman's hands in his own, pulling them away from his face.

"We'll always be there for each other, right?"

Francis smiled, pressing his forehead against Arthur's, "Always.", allowing Arthur to close the final distance between them they met together with a kiss.

This relationship had been a complicated one from the first time they'd kissed, but the awkwardness was beginning to wear away, even if they knew their bosses, their people, and the other Nations could never know they were happy in this moment.

Francis broke the kiss gently, brushing Arthur's nose with his fingertips. "We've spent so much of our time fighting, I think it's all been beaten out of us over the years…" they kissed again.

"Come on," Francis yawned, "Let's get you to bed." without word or warning he whisked Arthur into his arms and began to carry him upstairs back to his room.

The next morning Arthur woke up curled against Francis' chest. His head wasn't pounding as much as it had been last night, and he was pleased to see that the Frenchman had kept his promise and kept his shorts on in bed.

Although it seemed like they'd taken a step in their relationship last night, Arthur wasn't quite sure if he was ready for that.

"Morning." Arthur grinned, propping himself up on his hands, watching Francis stir and slowly open his eyes.

"Morning." the Frenchman returned with a light peck, running his hands through Arthur's messy hair. Chuckling lightly, Francis closed his eyes again. "Part of me hopes I get used to this image every morning, and the other half hopes that it always seems like the first time."

"You frogs talk a lot of nonsense." Arthur smirked, rolling out of bed and grabbing a clean shirt from the cupboard. "We're going back to our own countries today, I'll write of course, but I don't know when we'll be able to see each other again..."

"It'll be soon." Francis assured him, watching the Brit with amusement as he considered what to dress himself in.

"I hope so." Arthur agreed, deciding on something and shutting himself in the bathroom to change.

With a grunt Francis clambered out of bed himself and pulled on his clothes from yesterday while Arthur was out of the room.

One day he'd get to really make the Brit his own, but last night hadn't been the night and the last thing Francis wanted was to frighten the other off.

"Arthur, I'm going back to my room to pack." the Frenchman called through the door, waiting for the murmur from the other side that told him Arthur had heard what he'd said.

Arthur stayed in the bathroom until he heard the door to the hotel room close behind the Frenchman.  
He hesitated then slunk to the floor with a sigh, "Git." he muttered under his breath.


	9. Chapter 9

This scene felt so depressingly familiar.

Here they were again, one year later in the same room that Poland and Lithuania had argued in but with two new Nations standing in front of them. The only difference was that Lithuania, Estonia and Latvia had now been offered a place on the League and were sitting somewhere amongst the seats around the court.

This was not the first new case that had been brought to them this year.

They'd received a complaint from Germany's boss concerning Upper Silesia, thankfully they'd been able to sort it peacefully with a vote, but this incident which had already been labelled the Åland Crisis. It made it sound like they'd failed already.

Both Sweden and Finland both laid claims on the islands, although Arthur and Francis were getting the impression that whatever Sweden's boss wanted, the Swedish Nation didn't seem to want the islands.

Throughout the whole of Finland's argument Sweden had kept his head bowed low, only moving from time to time to adjust his glasses on his nose or give them a wipe with the tissue in his pocket.

When Finland had finished his long statement about why the Islands were rightfully his Sweden only shrugged in his defence, looking as miserable as it was possible for the stoic Scandinavian Nation to be.

Arthur noticed when looking into the crowds that Denmark, Norway and Iceland didn't look too happy about this argument being brought before the League. Arthur wondered whether they thought it made the whole of Scandinavia seem bad to see Finland attacking his neighbour with such violent passion.

Was there even any point in them voting on this?

It seemed like Finland was just making a scene, Sweden wasn't going to challenge his claim to the islands no matter how much the Finnish Nation insulted him, and some of those insults showed an intimate knowledge that made Arthur feel quite hot under his collar.

It was Poland and Lithuania all over again. Two Nations which had previously been involved in one of the most intimate forms of a relationship and had rarely quarrelled were suddenly in court and challenging each other, well, at least one of them was challenging the other.

Arthur looked at Francis at the same time the Frenchman looked at him, there was already a clear result on the way they and their bosses would probably vote.

~/~

Ludwig found himself drawn to the crowd of people standing outside of one of the pubs.

His brother had sent him to get the day's shopping and was expecting him back soon, but Ludwig couldn't help but feel enthralled by this crowd he'd seen. He'd seen it the other day too, and the day before that, it was a constant event that he seemed to be missing out on.

Deciding that his brother wouldn't really mind if he was a few minuets later than he'd promised he began to push his way through the crowd, protecting the shopping as people knocked into him from all sides as he was herded into the pub with the rest of them.

Although things were still terrible for him and his brother, Gilbert had managed to find a construction job and was earning enough for them to rent a small single bedroomed apartment above a pub at the other side of the city, which was quickly becoming Gilbert's favourite place.

Gilbert hated this sort of work, Ludwig knew this. His brother was the proud soldier of the old Prussia that had once been feared by all on the battlefield and now he was building roads and railways like some sort of ordinary person.

That was why he'd come back to his drink so hard, and unlike the old happy, obnoxious drunken Gilbert he was now more aggressive and violent. He hadn't yet hit Ludwig but the way his threats carried on the German Nation could only assume it was a matter of time.

Although he couldn't yet see him Ludwig could hear a man speaking loudly at the front of the crowd. The sheer charisma of his voice made Ludwig sway slightly on the spot and his heart rate increase with excitement, something about this man just told him that he was important, or if he wasn't now he would be one day.

Ludwig hadn't meant to spend as much time in the pub as he had and by the time he finally returned with the shopping it was well into mid-afternoon and his brother was completely pissed, there must have been no work for him today.

"Where the hell have you been!" Gilbert snapped, grabbing the groceries from Ludwig's arms and dropping them on the bar counter.

"I just stopped to hear some guy talking" Ludwig told him, trying to remember the name, "an Adolf Hitler I think, he's really good bruder, you should come and listen to him tomorrow with me..." Ludwig trailed off as he caught his brother's furious expression.

"Dummkopf!" Gilbert suddenly yelled cuffing Ludwig around the head, it wasn't enough to do any damage but it did sting a bit, this was the first time his brother had hit him. "That Hitler is a nasty piece of work Lud, don't listen to him, he's a prejudiced, xenophobic fool!"

Ludwig didn't argue with his brother, there was no point when he was this drunk, but with all his heart he disagreed.

Although perhaps Hitler had seemed a little extreme when he talked about the Jewish people, Ludwig couldn't help agree with some of his other points. The German Government should be doing more to help their people!

It all went back to that treaty, the one he'd signed, the one he shouldn't have signed!

Part of him, now he looked back wondered, had the war really been that bad, surely the might of Germany if it had continued would have won eventually. They shouldn't have surrendered, why had they given up?

And even if they had been destroyed in battle, it was hardly any different to where they were now.

Rubbing the back of his head and scowling at his brother, Ludwig gathered the groceries from the floor and counter of the bar and stormed upstairs.

Gilbert watched him go, downing another glass of beer, drinking away the rising feeling of guilt that was gathering in his chest for hitting his brother.

He'd just been shocked, of course he'd heard about Hitler from the other men who worked with him but every time his name was mentioned Gilbert just got a chill up his spine. A tingling sensation that just told him that this man was not to be trusted with the fate of his and Ludwig's country.

His brother had mentioned 'Hitler' and 'Good' in the same sentence and a part of him had just snapped. Ludwig had always been so easily swayed emotionally, even when he was a kid; although nobody would guess it when they looked at him.

Ludwig had a habit of looking stoic and emotionless, this had only gotten more extreme as he got older. It had been several years since Gilbert had last seen him smile.

It was a little odd though now he thought about it. That last night when he'd seen Ludwig smile when they'd been around that fire in a warming room it had been himself who was shouting and cursing France and the treaty, but now... He was too tired to complain.

Of course he still disagreed with the treaty but he'd had time to reflect on his age. Bad things had happened before and they would happen again, he and Ludwig just had to stand strong like they had done in the past and this time would pass.

The betrayal of his old friend Francis had stung, but he supposed he'd betrayed his friend first by attempting to invade his country. Even so, he hadn't expected Francis to take it as personally as he had done, after all Francis and his English 'friend' had been fighting and attempting to invade each other for years, and whatever they said there was no way they'd ever hated each other.

The sooner their leaders called him and Ludwig back to their rightful place the better.

_**Author's note: Sorry I know this chapter is really short, I just figured it was better to get a chapter up that was a little short than leave it for another week.**_


	10. Chapter 10

"Aren't you coming to meet him fratello?"

The year was 1922 and Feliciano was standing in the doorway to their villa on the outskirts of Rome with his coat half on one shoulder. Outside was a carriage waiting to take him and his brother to meet their new leader.

Lovino stayed where he was, sitting at the table with a tomato grasped lightly in his palm.

"You go ahead Feliciano," Lovino's eyes were focused on the tomato in his hand, his expression unreadable.

"But Signore Mussolini wants to see both of us," Feliciano didn't understand, his brother had been in a fowl mood ever since Mussolini had taken over. Surely his brother understood this was nothing personal, the people hadn't taken it personally so why should they?

"I said go ahead," there was a tight sound in Lovino's voice, like he was struggling not to grit his teeth.

Feliciano nodded sadly, finishing the process of pulling his coat on, "I'll tell you all about it when I get home okay."

His reply was a faint 'Hmph' which could have meant yes or no, it may not even have been a real answer.

"Signore Italy" a servant stuck his head nervously around the door, "are you and Signore Romano ready?"

Feliciano walked forwards, outside the house, moving the servant with him and closing the door behind them. "My brother won't be coming, he's feeling a little ill, please take care of him while I'm gone."

"It's nothing serious I hope," the servant's eyes grew wide and fearful.

Feliciano understood why, so he smiled reassuringly and patted the servant's head, "even Nations can just get sick, it doesn't always mean something bad for the country."

Sweeping past the servant he hopped into the carriage, sitting down as the door was closed behind him.

Outside he heard a click of the driver's tongue, then they were moving swiftly down the road and away from the villa.

To be honest with himself, Feliciano was just grateful that something was happening at last.

The problems in the League had caused nothing but further anger and bitterness between the Nations and their people. Outside of the League Feliciano and Lovino never saw any of the other Nations any more.

Lovino had been to see Antonio a few times but the economic difficulties in their two countries made things complicated and hard to arrange.

Nations didn't earn money and were reliant on the expenses they got from their government, depending on the current wealth of the country this income would vary.

He and his brother were currently living on a sum that was just enough to keep the house going and to feed themselves small meals that the two gluttons were struggling to get by on.

The war had left the European Nations in a bad way but things were starting to look up, the Americans had begun lending money to the European governments to invest in business and industry, and with Mussolini's take over it was like a new beginning.

Feliciano didn't understand why his brother disliked their new leader so much, whenever he asked, Lovino would just growl and change the subject.

Pushing the issue out of his mind, Feliciano focused on more important things, like what he would be having for dinner. Mussolini would no doubt want to impress him, all new leaders did, and that meant they always prepared huge and elaborate meals which made him drool just at the thought of them.

The road bumped a little at they entered the main city. It was in a sorry state, but not nearly as sorry as it had been four years ago. Europe was slowly rebuilding itself, and hopefully with the improving standards in their own countries they would once again be able to become like they had once been.

Prior to the war Feliciano had always been visiting Roderick, Eliza and Antonio, he'd even been to visit Gilbert and his younger brother Ludwig once or twice before the war started.

"We'll be arriving soon Signor" the driver called, pulling on the reigns to turn the carriage down a wide street with large renaissance houses and neat little gardens.

When the carriage stopped Feliciano waited for the door to be opened before stepping out to greet Mussolini who was standing on his front doorstep with his wife and a large smile on his face.

"Veneziano it is good to finally meet you," Mussolini embraced him, placing a kiss on both of his cheeks and patting him on the back.

"Italy please," Feliciano smiled. Although he and his brother were both technically Italy most people called him Italy and his brother Romano.

Feliciano was grateful that Mussolini didn't mention the absence of his brother, it would have been embarrassing to explain. Feliciano knew that he was a terrible liar, so the story that his brother was ill probably wouldn't go down well.

As he entered the house a warm smell of cooking food reached his senses, making his mouth water uncontrollably.

Mussolini laughed and his wife smiled happily before she hurried off to see to it that all the cooking was being done properly.

"Dinner will be ready soon, while we wait shall we talk?" Mussolini led Feliciano into a grandly furnished smoking room.

The more of this house Feliciano saw the more he was confirmed of the absolute grandeur that Mussolini was living in.

The house was furnished in a very western style, with the sort of layout that Feliciano had seen in France and England's houses.

Below his feet was a blood red carpet that spread across the room under the feet of plush sofas and the legs of a grand piano in one corner near a wide delicately pained window.

"You like my house?" Mussolini questioned, resting one hand on the dark leather arm of one of the sofas.

Feliciano nodded. Although it wasn't to his particular tastes, everything about this house screamed wealth, fortune and luring sense that it was possible to see such riches in Italy.

"This country has too long been held under the boot of civil wars and invasions, but we, like yourself and your brother are descended from the great and mighty Rome!" He brought down his fist on the leather, the material muffling the sound although it look like a lot of force had been used. "It is my plan and ambition to see Italy restored to its former glory, we will make your nonno proud of you!"

Feliciano hesitated while Mussolini poured them drinks from a bar on a table against one of the walls.

His grandfather, he wanted nothing more than to make him proud, but... Did he want to be like his grandfather? Did he want to end up like his grandfather?

He looked again around the fine room and his eyes rested on Mussolini who was now standing in front of him holding out a glass of wine for him to take.

A selfish Nation that's what he'd been called in the past. A Nation that only cared for having fun and his own safety, a Nation that didn't care about the starving people in his country. Mussolini was offering him a chance to show the people he cared and to make a difference to their lives.

Swallowing and forcing himself not to shake Feliciano reached out and took the glass from Mussolini's hand.

Mussolini smiled, "shall we go through to eat?"

"You did what!" Lovino gaped at him later that evening, his illness forgotten.

"Lovi you should have seen his house, we could live like that, our people could live like the people in France and England," Feliciano wasn't sure why his brother was so angry.

"You gullible idiot!" Lovino snapped, "you stupid, stupid fool! I don't even want to look at you!"

With that final yell Lovino stormed away. A moment later Feliciano heard the door to their garden slam, Lovino often went and sat amongst the orchards when he was angry, Feliciano wondered if it was old habit, afterall, Lovino had grown up around the orchards of Spain, while he himself had worked in Austria's grand house.

Although they were twins and the same country, they were very different.

Maybe when Lovino had calmed down he would understand.


End file.
